


Come see how good the world looks

by Bergen



Series: Wake up and smell the coffee [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Parent Pepper Potts, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, and most importantly: turtles, referenced drug dealing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28111305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bergen/pseuds/Bergen
Summary: There were still a few things left in life that were beyond Tony’s understanding. Black holes, the Zodiac murders, people who own chihuahuas …But this ‘parenting Peter Parker’-thing, he had it figured out to a tee. It was mostly all about nodding or shaking your head at the right moments, and using turtle videos as a strange sort of reward system. And if anything backfired; letting Pepper take the fall.But he had a nagging feeling that Pepper’s parents coming to town was going to seriously mess up his mojo.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Wake up and smell the coffee [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059425
Comments: 118
Kudos: 522





	1. Finding Nemo and origami tea bags

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second work in a series and picks up immediately where [the last one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193922) left off.  
> I won't be uploading as fast as I did last time: count on 1x a week.

“Don’t take down the decorations yet,” Pepper said. “My parents are coming by tomorrow.”

Tony had been lying face down on the couch, but immediately pushed himself up, feeling alarmed. “What? Why?”

“It’s my birthday.”

“So? They never needed to come over for your birthday before!”

“They want to meet Peter, too.”

Both of them turned to Peter, who was standing in the corner of the room, holding a balloon.

“Um,” Peter said, looking flustered at this sudden new curveball. “Are we… Do we not like Pepper’s parents?”

“Of course we do,” Pepper immediately said with a glare in Tony’s direction.

“But they never come to your birthday?” Peter clarified.

“They do. But I usually meet them in a restaurant. They don’t like coming to the compound because they feel unwelcome here,” Pepper explained in curt tones.

“Which is _not_ my fault,” Tony vehemently added.

The look on Peppers face clearly said she thought otherwise.

Peter let the balloon drop to the floor and kicked it away. “So do you want me to be nice Peter or nasty Peter?”

“I didn’t know you had a drop-down menu to program your behavior,” Tony said. “Are there any other options, like funny Peter or dumb Peter? I’d _love_ to see dumb Peter.”

“We want you to be yourself,” Pepper said.

“But, like, a nicer version of myself, right?”

“ _Yourself_ , Peter! There is no good or bad version. It’s just you.”

Tony nodded in agreement.

There were still a few things left in life that were beyond Tony’s understanding. Black holes, the Zodiac murders, people who own chihuahuas …

But this ‘parenting Peter Parker’-thing, he had it figured out to a tee. It was mostly all about nodding or shaking your head at the right moments, and using turtle videos as a strange sort of reward system. And if anything backfired; letting Pepper take the fall.

But he had a nagging feeling that Pepper’s parents coming to town was going to seriously mess up his mojo. They didn’t have a high opinion of him. They had always had their objections to Pepper and Tony’s relationship, and they certainly wouldn’t be thrilled about a teenager getting thrown into the mix. “Can I _not_ be here when they arrive?” He asked, hopeful.

“Can we perhaps discuss this later?” Pepper asked, with a significant glance towards Peter.

Right, Peter was clearly a little unsettled to learn about their family dispute.

It seemed like nodding was the right choice for now, then.

-

Later that day, Peter sought him out in the workshop. The way he was fiddling around with screwdrivers without actually doing anything, made it clear that he wanted to talk.

“Just spit it out, kid,” Tony said, after Peter had rearranged his set of wrenches in a different order three separate times. “This about Pepper’s parents?”

Peter dropped a wrench to the table. “What are their names?”

“John and Theresa.”

“Do they live far away?”

“No, just outside New York, near Beacon.”

Peter winced a little, as if Tony had said something offensive. Then, he asked: “Why do you not like them?”

“We just never really got on. It’s not that big a deal. Just the classic in-laws issues. Pepper is lucky she never had any. Bit the dust long before she came into my life.”

“So they probably won’t like me either, then,” Peter established.

Honestly, Tony wasn’t sure. But he knew just enough about parenting to know that he shouldn’t vocalize it that way. “No, they’ll like you all right, kid. They might feel sorry for you, getting raised by the likes of _me_.”

“Are they nice to Pepper, though?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, of course. That’s part of the problem. They practically worship her.”

“All right,” Peter said, looking slightly more satisfied.

When Tony was in his twenties, his mother would usually scold him whenever she found out he had just had another one-night stand with a woman whose name he couldn’t remember. His father would roll his eyes and say: “Maria, let him have his fun. No _respectable_ woman is ever going to want him, after all.”

At the time, he had found it funny. It was one of those rare times when his father seemed to take his side. He only realized later that it was actually just another way of cutting him down.

Pepper’s parents were very clearly of the same mind as Howard Stark: their little Virginia was ‘too respectable’ to be associated with former playboy Tony Stark.

“In other news,” Peter said, and Tony was shaken from his spiraling thoughts, back to reality.

Peter took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and held it out to Tony. “There’s a parents’ evening at school next week. On Thursday, with Mr. Harisson. Um – I asked Pepper. She has that business trip. She said she could try to schedule a different meeting with Mr. Harisson, but-“

“No need kid,” Tony said, snatching up the piece of paper. “I’m there.”

“Cool,” Peter said, looking relieved.

“I’m gonna get all the gossip on you, you know,” Tony warned. “This is where being a parent _really_ pays off. Getting to know about all the teen drama that goes on when I’m not looking.”

Peter lifted his chin. “Actually, the school insists on the students attending, too. So I’ll be there to keep you in check. And don’t expect any teen drama. We’ll be discussing my grades, nothing else.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“I’m serious, Tony. I might just make you a list of topics you’re not allowed to bring up.”

“Does Mr. Harisson know about your obsession with-“

“And turtles are _high_ on that list, Tony! Please just have my back?”

Tony chuckled, patting Peter on the shoulder. “I’ll have your back, kid.”

-

The first thing Pepper had said after Tony proposed to her was: “Well, I guess I’ll have to tell my parents about you, now.”

Their relationship up to that point had been rocky, full of uncertainties and without any plans for the future. It was something just for the two of them; they both felt uncomfortable with the idea of sharing it with others.

Once they agreed that they might as well get married, all that had to change.

Theresa and John had been decidedly displeased with the whole situation. They were unhappy that Pepper had never informed them about her relationship. They were concerned about their daughter getting bothered by paparazzi. And they were horrified that Tony Stark of all people would be the one to marry their perfectly respectable daughter.

“He’s not the monogamous type,” John had said.

“I just think being attracted to ‘bad boys’ is so terribly cliché,” Theresa had said.

And they didn’t even have the decency to say all that behind Tony’s back, but rather while he was right there, sitting at the table with them.

That was almost two years ago now, and Tony had not exchanged a single word with them since then. Pepper always signed birthday and Christmas cards with both their names, and John and Theresa in turn sent him the perfunctory card when _his_ birthday rolled around. As far as Tony was concerned, he didn’t need anything more.

Pepper had badgered him about it during the first few months. But after a while, she had accepted the situation, and never bothered Tony about it again.

So on this particular evening, he felt absolutely no inclination to join the others for dinner; not even to be there to introduce Peter to them. Pepper could do that on her own just fine. When FRIDAY reported that the in-laws were parking their car outside the compound, Tony was as far away from the living room as possible; in Bruce’s lab, watching him label blood samples.

“You have issues, Tony,” Bruce said as he scribbled tiny notes on even tinier pieces of paper. “You want to avoid your in-laws so badly that you would prefer to watch me do admin work for two hours straight?”

“It’s weirdly soothing. Almost ASMR.”

“Don’t you think Peter would like you to be there?”

“Nah,” Tony said. “Peter probably has a better shot at a nice dinner when I’m not there to create tensions.”

“You don’t think any tension might arise based on the fact that you refused to even show your face?”

“Not my parents, not my problem,” Tony lightly said, crossing his arms. “My own parents were bad enough. I’m rid of them now, I don’t want to go through the whole thing again.”

Bruce slightly shook his head, but didn’t badger him anymore. He just continued scribbling.

Pepper appeared in the lab about an hour and a half later. A little sooner than Tony would have expected. He sat up straighter. “Are they gone?”

Pepper clearly pretended not to hear the eager undertones in his voice. “Yes. We saved you some leftovers. Interested?”

“Sure. How was dinner?”

She sighed, straightening her jacket like she always did when she was displeased. “Peter was pretty rude to them, actually,” she said. “Nothing I can’t handle, of course. But I wasn’t happy about it.”

“Your parents were probably being passive aggressive at him,” Tony said, leaping to Peter’s defense.

“They were perfectly nice! And you know very well why he was behaving like that. I’m far beyond trying to get you to make nice with my parents. But can you please let Peter make up his own mind about them, instead of turning your personal feelings into _his_ problem?”

“I told him they might like him,” Tony said defensively.

“Oh, that’s a big fat ringing endorsement. Especially right after you spent a whole day complaining about their arrival and hiding away as soon as they showed up. How dumb do you think Peter is? He picks up on stuff, you know. He’s not just a brick with eyebrows.”

Hard to argue against that point. “I’ll be better,” Tony promised.

“That’s good to hear. Because my parents extended an invitation for you to have dinner with them tomorrow evening.”

“Just.. just me?”

“I’m leaving for that business trip tomorrow afternoon. I’m sure they wouldn’t object to Peter joining you, although frankly you could use some time alone with them.”

Ugh. Parents.

Honestly, Tony felt a little kicked-into-the-deep-end. Or rather; he felt like Pepper had thrown him overboard into the ocean and was now waving at him from the deck as her ship sailed away.

-

That feeling had not disappeared by the next afternoon, when it was time for Pepper to leave. She would be gone for a whole week, and Tony hadn’t realized until now that this meant he would have to do this parenting thing all by himself. And Tony had not yet read enough parenting books to be able to pull that off.

He sat on the bed and watched her as she scurried around the room, packing her suitcase. “I’m a little nervous about you leaving,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. The internet says being a single parent is hard. Have you ever seen _Finding Nemo_?”

“How about this,” Pepper said, leaning her hip against the footboard of the bed. “If Peter gets kidnapped by scuba divers, I promise I’ll get the next flight back home.”

“Was it scuba divers? I don’t actually remember the movie that well. I thought it was a shark. Either way, all I know is the dad had to solve it all, and I do _not_ have the energy to deal with all the jellyfish and seagulls and who knows what else.”

She hummed. “Good thing you have Rhodey as your co-parent, then.”

“I wouldn’t say _co-parent_ …”

“Friday, where is Peter right now?” Pepper asked.

“Having tea with Rhodey,” FRIDAY immediately reported.

Pepper shot Tony a smirk.

“Well, fine,” Tony admitted. “But I also need you as my buffer zone between me and your parents. I can’t believe I have to go to diner with them.”

“Tony – I don’t want to argue over this again. I honestly don’t care what you do. I’ve made my peace with this situation a long time ago. If you have dinner with them, that’s nice. But don’t pretend like you ‘have’ to do it because I’m forcing you. I’m fine either way. Now, I have a plane to catch. Make sure Peter eats enough fruit and don’t forget the parents’ evening. Love you!”

-

Tony found Peter and Rhodey at the kitchen table, having their daily dosage of tea. Peter was folding an empty teabag like origami, a concentrated frown on his face.

Tony grabbed a mug from the kitchen counter and set it down, motioning for Rhodey to fill ‘er up. “How was school?” He asked Peter, stretching his legs out under the table.

“My history teacher came up with a stupid project,” Peter said, not looking up from his work. “And now I have to make a poster by next week. Do we have any really big pieces of paper?”

“How big are we talking?”

Peter shrugged. “Poster-sized.”

“Try Pepper’s office. Not like she’ll be using it, anyways.” He was aware that he sounded petulant. Like a child who wasn’t getting his way.

Rhodey noticed it too. “You seem grumpy. Usually, when Pepper goes on a business trip, you get all giddy because you want to stay up all night and watch movies she disapproves of.”

“Yeah, well, usually I don’t have to mentally prepare myself for a dinner with her parents.”

Rhodey lifted his eyebrows. “You’re having dinner with John and Theresa?”

“Actually, I haven’t decided yet. They invited me. Pepper says she doesn’t care whether I accept, but I get the feeling that she’d like it if I went.”

“Of course she would,” Rhodey said, rolling his eyes. “It’s far from easy when your parents and your husband are not on speaking terms.”

“I just have a thing about parents. I don’t like them.”

“Yes, but Tony,” Rhodey said, “you _are_ a parent now.”

Tony’s gaze drifted back to Peter, who wasn’t focusing on the conversation because he was too busy balancing the empty teabag on his nose; his head tilted back. He looked completely idiotic.

It was adorable.

Yeah, he was a parent now. “I guess so. I just hope I don’t end up like my old man.”

Howard Stark had absolutely hated social engagements, which was strange because he loved business dinners. Apparently, he could only make small talk when he knew there was a juicy business deal on the horizon. Come to think of it, Tony didn’t remember his father ever really engaging with his in-laws; Maria’s parents. They never had big family events or Christmas dinners. Had Tony been missing out?

He should probably deal with his own in-laws better, for Peter’s sake. “I’ll go have dinner with them, then,” he murmured.

“Do you want me to come with?” Peter asked, letting the paper drop to the table.

“And do what?”

“I can tell jokes,” Peter suggested. “To lighten the mood. I know loads of spider puns. What do you call an undercover arachnid?”

“I don’t think that’s-“

“A spy-der. Get it? _Spy_ … der.”

Tony dropped his head into his hands. “Is it too early to give up the will to live?”


	2. Chick pea curry and dinosaurs

Beacon…

Peter stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He had made a feeble attempt at doing his homework, but his books were now long forgotten, scattered around him on the floor. Tony was on his way to Beacon right now, to have dinner with John and Theresa. Peter hadn’t been able to put it out of his mind. Not because he cared so much about what happened between those three, but because they just _had_ to live in Beacon of all places.

When Tony had mentioned the name of the village, Peter thought his heart might stop in his chest. Clearly, the name didn’t ring any bells for Tony himself. Peter, however, had the name ingrained in his mind for one single reason; there was a prison just to the west of it. A prison where Kathy had been incarcerated for the past few weeks.

Peter thought that he had been able to put her out of his head, but one single mention of Beacon made it clear how hung up he still was on the whole thing. Because suddenly, it was all he could think about.

The last time he saw Kathy she was still the sweet, innocent lady that Peter just wanted to take care of. Who knitted blankets for orphans in Romania and yelled at the television whenever the weatherman predicted rain. And then a whole shitstorm went down; one that ripped the rug right from under him and left him knocked back on his ass. After Kathy’s arrest, several puzzle pieces had fallen into place. Peter now realized that he had turned a blind eye to some pretty clear issues in her behavior. But that didn’t make the whole thing feel any less surreal.

He couldn’t imagine Kathy in prison. In some cell, instead of in her armchair by the window. She was pretty old. Would they make her do a lot of work? Was she feeling alone and scared, or did she run the whole prison like a mob-leader? And what if she got a migraine, would people even take care of her?

Without really thinking about it, he took out his phone and browsed the website of the prison for a while. Information about life on the inside was sparse. Of course it was; it wasn’t some three-star hotel that needed to attract new visitors. A short paragraph on visiting hours and phone calls caught his eye. _‘Inmates have visitation on Saturdays and Holidays from 8:30 am – 3 pm’_.

Peter stared at the single sentence for a while. Would he…? God no, he was being an idiot. He tossed his phone aside and sat up. He just needed a distraction, that was all. He glanced at the clock. He usually waited to go patrolling until after dinner, but he needed to be out in the city right now and get his mind off of Beacon.

He shoved his suit into his backpack. If he hurried, he’d catch the next bus down to the city center.

When he got to the living room, he was far from pleased to find Fury there, deep in conversation with Rhodey. That man had a knack of showing up when Peter least wanted him to. Both men looked up when Peter entered the room.

“I’m going out,” Peter announced.

“Have you had dinner?” Rhodey asked.

“I’m doing an early patrol and a late dinner.”

Rhodey pursed his lips. “All right. But let’s not make a habit of that. I’ll make sure we have leftovers for you.”

Fury stood up from the couch, his face all dark and menacing. “Mr. Parker, a word.”

“Can’t right now, going out,” Peter called out, swiftly moving to the door towards the lobby without looking back.

“Mr. Parker!”

Peter stepped into the lobby and marched towards the front doors, but heavy footsteps were just behind him, echoing against the high ceiling.

“Mr. Parker, do not take another step!”

Peter halted, turning to Fury, making sure to look annoyed and bored. “What?”

Fury stopped a few feet away from him, crossing his arms. It stayed silent as Fury just stared at Peter for a while. The man probably hoped that Peter would be intimidated by that, or something.

“ _What_?” Peter repeated. “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me? Because I can give you a picture of me to look at while I go out and actually do something usef-.”

“First off,” Fury said, clearly choosing to interrupt him on purpose, as another annoying power move. “When I ask for a ‘word’, you don’t walk away. I’m still in charge here.”

“Um,” Peter said. “Excuse me, asshole, but you are _not_ in charge of me.”

“You’re an Avenger, aren’t you?” Fury demanded, his eyes reflecting pure frustration.

“Only on paper. As a favor to you, if I may remind you. So grab a ladder and get of that high horse. You want to talk to me, or what?”

Fury swung his jaw from right to left for a moment, before finally grunting: “You need to stop selling those bullshit stories to the New York Examiner, they are-“

“Excuse me again, while I just correct you real quick. I’m not _selling_ anything, first of all. It’s all charity, purely out of the goodness of my heart. And second, they’re not bullshit. I only give her one hundred percent factual anecdotes, these days. Don’t want Dani to get fired for inaccuracies.”

“Well, your latest factual anecdote made SHIELD look incompetent.”

Peter shrugged. “Not my fault that you accidentally sent a spy undercover in the wrong company for three months.”

“Some of that information could have been confidential, Parker.”

“Then don’t be stupid enough to tell me about it,” Peter said with a grin.

“I _will_ take this matter up with Pepper and Tony.”

If that was the worst threat Fury could come up with, it clearly meant that Peter had won this round. “You do that. Meanwhile, I’ll go visit Dani again. Anything you want me to tell her? No? Okay, see you later!”

-

It was a quiet and dreary day in the city. Maybe all the evil assholes waited until after dinner to do their bad shit. Peter had found a girl hanging up some flyers for her missing rabbit, and offered to help her. So now here he was, trudging through the drizzle, trying to pin wet, sticky flyers to the trees.

He wondered if Tony had arrived in Beacon yet, and whether he would have to drive past the prison to get to Theresa and John’s house. Peter had looked up their address and they didn’t live too far away from it.

It would be easier, he supposed, if Tony would learn to get along with John and Theresa. Peter had been a little rude to them during dinner the other day, because he didn’t really _want_ to get along with them. Because if he did, Tony would be the one left out, and Peter didn’t want to be responsible for that. On the other hand, Pepper obviously hadn’t been too happy about the situation, and Peter didn’t want to be responsible for that, either.

Ugh, having a family was complicated.

He had never really felt this way before. With the six foster families he lived with before Kathy, he had never felt pressure to live up to the image of the picture-perfect family. It was always temporary, anyways. If they didn’t match, it didn’t matter. And if they _did_ match, it only made things harder when he was taken away again. So he hadn’t cared much about whether his foster parents were happy to have him or not.

He hadn’t felt this way with Kathy, either. It was always very clear that she was happy to have him around, and it was clear what he needed to do to _keep_ her happy. He never doubted his place.

Pepper and Tony had been very adamant that Kathy’s approach had been all wrong, and that Peter wasn’t supposed to do any of those things for them. Peter knew in his heart that they were right, but at the same time, Pepper and Tony didn’t really understand how easy and straightforward his life with Kathy had been.

In some ways, living with Tony and Pepper was a lot more complicated because this time, he wanted everyone to be happy, but didn’t know what he was supposed to do to keep it that way.

He pinned up the last flyer and took a step back to study the picture for a moment, just in case he’d come across a rabbit somewhere else in the city.

“Hey Karen, how far from Eckfort street?” He had gotten off the bus here on purpose so that he could drop by Dani’s place to see if she was home.

“Only about seven minutes if you walk,” Karen said.

“How ‘bout if I swing?”

“Provided you don’t get tangled in a large tree like you did last time, you’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“Harsh, Karen.”

“Hey, you programmed me this way.”

Peter grinned, before breaking into a sprint. He shot his webbing at a nearby lamppost and yanked himself up into the sky, letting the cool evening air fill up his lungs as he swung towards the stars.

He didn’t hit any trees, and reached Dani’s apartment on Eckfort street in less than three minutes. He saw a faint light burning behind the closed drapes. Dani was probably home, then. Time to scare her senseless.

Peter crawled along the building’s façade until he reached the window. He leaned back, keeping one hand on the brick wall and lifting the other hand to give a sharp knock against the glass.

It remained silent for a while. Peter knocked again, and then the curtains were suddenly yanked open by a disconcerted looking Dani. She jumped back about two feet when she spotted him, then deflated completely, an exasperated look appearing on her face. She stepped forward again and opened the window. “When are you gonna stop doing that?”

“When you stop reacting like this,” Peter said with a grin.

“Want to come in? It’s raining.”

“Nah. I won’t stay long. How’s the ol’ job?”

“Not great actually,” Dani said, sitting sideways on her desk, her face falling. “All the Avenger’s stuff makes for great news. Those articles are very popular. But now my boss says I’m too inexperienced to deal with an important source like this.”

“Gossip about SHIELD is important? What, did we get all the war and crimes sorted out? Sounds like she needs to get her priorities straight. You can tell her I’m talking to you, and no one else.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Dani murmured, dangling her legs back and forth. “But I don’t want to make trouble. It’s a new job, and my boss already doesn’t like me. I don’t want to give her a reason to fire me.”

“She’d be a complete idiot to fire the only reporter in town who gets to talk to Spider-Man,” Peter said.

“Yeah, well…” Dani said, looking uneasy.

Peter sighed, pulling himself forward so he could sit on the window sill. “Hey, I get it. I’m new on the Avenger’s team, too. Just moved into the compound. I’m the same way; I want to keep everyone happy.”

“But you’re _in charge_ ,” she said, nervously tapping a pen against her cheek. It was leaving little splotches of ink all over her skin. “They have to be nice to you, or you could fire them.”

Peter smiled inwardly. If only he actually had that kind of leverage. He used to; back when he didn’t want to live at the compound yet and the Avengers needed him to fix their reputation. But now, he didn’t really hold any of the cards anymore. “Your boss has to be nice to you too; she needs you to get the juicy inside news from the Avengers.”

“Why do you even trust _me_?” She asked. “Maybe you’ll be more comfortable with someone who is not an inexperienced twenty-something year old fresh out of college?”

It was a fair question, and one Peter needed a moment to think about, because he didn’t actually know the answer. He just knew that he’d much rather talk to awkward, bumbling Dani than to some seasoned reported. “Because reporters can be evil bastards,” he finally said. “But you’re not. So I’m not talking to anyone else.”

“I have a meeting next Monday,” Dani said. “And my boss expects me to hand this whole story over to a colleague. What do you suggest I tell her?”

“What time is the meeting?”

“Four pm. Why?”

“What floor?”

She blinked. “Um… our offices are all on the fifth floor, so…”

Peter grinned. “I’ll see you there. Leave a window open.”

-

“Welcome.”

The single word had never sounded so menacing.

“Thank you,” Tony said, awkwardly lingering near the front door. He had never been in John and Theresa’s house. He hadn’t realized until he was already half-way to Beacon that it was common courtesy to bring a little something for the host, so he had bought an ugly bouquet of flowers at a gas station that he now held out to John.

“Flowers,” John said, which… well, yeah, that’s what they were. John’s voice was a little wheezy. Tony didn’t remember it being that way, but then again, it had been almost two years since he had really talked to these people.

John took the bouquet from him. “It’s nice to see you. To be honest, we hadn’t expected you to accept the invitation.”

 _I wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for Peter_. “Yes, well… here I am.”

“I hope you like chickpea curry. Theresa and I are both vegetarians.”

It was getting harder and harder to like these people.

Tony followed John into the living room. The house was quite small, but through the glass terrace doors he could see a large backyard; a lawn with some flowerbeds and a large tree.

Theresa rose from her seat at the table to shake his hand, too. She motioned to the chair next to her.

Tony sat.

“He gave this to us,” John told her, lifting the bouquet a little. “Can you do something with it? I’ll go finish the curry.”

She took the flowers. “I’ll see if we have a vase. We never buy flowers,” she said, and Tony wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a subtle sneer.

“You can just throw them out if you prefer,” he said, keeping his voice indifferent.

She didn’t react to that at all, turning away from him. She opened a low cupboard and Tony immediately spotted about ten vases in different colors and sizes filling up a whole shelf. So what had that remark even been about? Theresa picked up a white one, nudging the cupboard shut with her foot.

“Well, thank god you found one,” Tony said, not caring how snide that comment sounded.

Theresa ignored him again, taking the vase into the kitchen. Tony could hear water running and low, murmured voices. Maybe they were discussing how to most effectively poison his dinner. Then Pepper could make off with his family fortune and marry someone more _respectable_.

Damn, what had he gotten himself into.

His phone buzzed and Tony glanced down at his smartwatch to see who it was.

Peter.

He knew Peter was patrolling this evening. And Peter knew Tony was having dinner with John and Theresa. He surely wouldn’t call without a good reason. Tony dug out his phone and quickly answered. “Kid, this had better be important.”

“It’s _very_ important, Tony.”

“All right, shoot.”

“How tall is a spider?”

“How… what?”

“EIGHT FEET!” Peter crowed, before promptly hanging up.

Tony lowered the phone, stifling a laugh. God, he loved this kid.

“That was Peter?” Theresa asked. She had re-entered the room and placed the vase with flowers in the center of the table.

“He’s just messing around.”

“Pepper never really explained how the two of you ended up with a teenager in your care,” she said, sitting down and levelling him with an intense stare.

Tony put his phone away. “It’s a long story.”

“Good. Here I was, worried we wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

Was that meant to be a joke or another insult? Tony glanced up at her. She was smiling. A joke, then, Tony decided. “Ha. Yes. Well, the Avengers had been working on busting a drug ring. And Peter was involved in it, so that’s how we first met.” Earlier that week, he and Pepper had settled on telling her family this version of the truth. But judging by the way Theresa’s eyebrows almost disappeared behind her hairline, Pepper hadn’t really gotten around to the story during their last dinner.

“Involved?” She repeated, dubiously.

“He worked as a drug runner for the first person we arrested. He then helped us roll up the whole network, and we discovered that his former foster parent had been the ring leader. She went to jail and Peter obviously needed a new family. So Pepper and I stepped up.”

“You’re not talking about that elderly lady that was in the papers a while ago, are you?”

“She was in the papers. So, yes, probably.”

“Well, that explains some of the jokes he made,” she said, the corners of her mouth tugging down in what Tony could only interpret as a disapproving frown. “What a strange story. And Pepper agreed to all this, did she?”

Tony set his jaw, feeling his shoulders tighten defensively. “What, you think I’d force her into it?”

“I just hope she knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“She’s not getting herself _into_ anything. We’re building a family, not invading a country.”

She waved a hand. “I was just concerned. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know. You’re always concerned. You’ve been concerned since the day we met. Concerned about your daughter getting involved with someone as terrible as me.”

“Let’s change the subject,” she said, giving him a sour look.

Tony ground his teeth. “I don’t want to change the subject. What’s the point of being fake-friendly and chitchatting all evening if we’re not going to get to the heart of the matter? You both hated me from the first moment you met me, and never once tried to change your minds.”

Two splotches of red appeared on Theresa’s cheeks. “Oh, please. You never gave us a chance. I haven’t exchanged two words with you since the day you announced your engagement. And not for lack of trying! Family dinners, Christmas, my brother’s funeral… We always invite you. But you always hide away and let Pepper take care of everything. And now, what, you’re letting her parent some troubled teenager all by herself?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Tony bit out. “Peter is the most important thing in my life right now.”

“I’m saying what I’m _seeing_ , which is Pepper trying to get that boy to behave during dinner while you are nowhere to be found!”

For a moment, there was silence as they stared at each other, chests heaving and eyes shooting flames.

The door from the kitchen opened. “Dinner is served!”

The pleasant smell of a mixture of herbs drifted into the room as John stood there with a large serving dish in his hands. But Tony wasn’t hungry anymore. “This was a mistake,” he said, pushing his chair back. “I should just go.”

“Well, that’s terribly rude,” John said. “What about all the leftover curry?”

Tony told him where he could shove his stupid leftover curry, and marched from the room. He snatched his coat from the hanger, almost ripping the whole thing off the wall, and yanked the front door open.

He was halfway towards his car when Theresa slipped outside, too. “Tony,” she said.

Tony ignored her, opening the car door and throwing his coat on the passenger seat.

“Tony, _please_.”

“What?” He snapped. “What do you want, Theresa? Why would we put ourselves through this? Why not just ignore each other like we have done so effortlessly for the past few years? Because Pepper doesn’t care whether we get on, you know. She told me.”

“That’s not what she told _me_.”

Tony froze, then turned to her. She was standing on the front lawn, her hands wrung together. Her eyes were watery, he noticed. And it wasn’t just because of the drizzling rain.

“What did she tell you?”

She gave a helpless shrug. “Just… that it made her sad.”

Damnit.

“And now Peter doesn’t like us either,” she continued, her voice wobbly. “We want to… we want to come to his birthday, you know. Or his graduation. We’re already missing half our daughters life. We don’t want to miss whole of _his_. Please come have dinner.”

Damnit, damnit.

What else could he do? He allowed himself to be led back inside. John had already served himself a big plate of curry and had simply started eating. Possibly hoping that, the sooner he’d finish this meal, the sooner the whole evening would be over. Tony could relate.

Theresa sat Tony down in the same chair by the table. This time, she didn’t beat around the bush anymore. “When you and Pepper got engaged, we had our concerns,” she started.

John immediately looked displeased, lowering his fork. “I thought you said we were going to avoid the awkward topics.”

“Well, that didn’t work out,” Theresa firmly said. “So we might as well get things out in the open.”

“Why can’t we bury them deep down, like a normal family?”

“Whether we like it or not, our family is not normal,” Theresa asserted. “Our daughter married Iron Man and adopted a teenager. It was not the lifestyle we had envisioned for her,” she turned back to Tony. “I admit we weren’t very open to the idea at first.”

“You had a reputation,” John added in between bites. “That you’d sleep with anything that had legs.”

“But Pepper has a mind of her own,” Theresa continued, with a stern glance in her husband’s direction. “And it’s not up to us to decide how she should spend her life.”

“Though you wish it were,” Tony deducted.

She took a slow sip of her wine before answering: “Pepper wouldn’t be with you unless she loved you. I know that. It’s just hard to _feel_ it; really feel it, when we’ve never seen the two of you being happy together. I’d like very much to see the two of you together sometimes. Well, the three of you, now.” She turned back to John. “Anything you want to add?”

“Nope.”

“John, stop shoveling food into your mouth for _one_ second and talk to us.”

John sighed, setting his fork down. “I’d like it if we could be in the same room together,” he then said, glancing up at Tony. “If I could maybe come to your birthday. I don’t need us to be the best of buddies. I’m not trying to be like your father or anything.”

“As well you shouldn’t,” Tony said. “He wasn’t a very nice man. Certainly didn’t care about coming to my birthday.”

“Well, then he sounds like an asshole,” John casually said.

Theresa slapped him lightly on the arm, making an indignant sound.

“No, he was,” Tony agreed. “Kind of ruined the whole concept of ‘parents’ for me. But I shouldn’t have skipped that dinner yesterday. I think that made it harder for Peter to connect with you two.”

Theresa nodded. “We could tell that he was on edge.”

“Pepper told me he was a little… unruly.”

“He said his hobby was dealing drugs,” Theresa said. “And then he offered to ‘score us some dope’.”

“And he said I looked like a turtle,” John added.

Tony quickly glanced at his bald head, long neck and wrinkly cheeks, and decided to refrain from commenting. “Well, Peter likes turtles,” he said instead. “So maybe that was his way of complimenting you.”

“He said: ‘you look like a turtle, but turtles eat less’,” John said. “It was not a compliment.”

“What do you think we should do?” Theresa asked Tony. “To connect with him?”

Tony stared down at his plate. He still didn’t like John and Theresa that much, and he had a feeling they still didn’t like _him_ that much, either. But they seemed to genuinely want to get to know Peter, and Tony couldn’t think of a single reason why he should stand in the way of that. “You gotta make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

-

Peter was sitting cross-legged on the couch. He had pulled the coffee table closer to him so that the edge was touching the cushions of the couch, and had laid out several magazines. He was currently cutting out a picture, a concentrated little frown on his face as he maneuvered the scissors around.

Wanda was sitting on the floor next to the table, lazily flipping through one of the magazines. “Hey Tony,” she said, without looking up.

Peter did look up, his frown immediately disappearing. “Hey Tony!”

“Hey. Doing some nice handicrafts?”

“It’s my history project,” Peter murmured. “You can help me. I need pictures that represent each era of western history, prehistoric to modern.”

Tony sat down next to him on the couch, awkwardly dangling his legs over the coffee table, and picked up a magazine. “How about I cut out this picture of a dinosaur?”

“Yeah, that’s good for prehistory. But cut it out properly, don’t make a hack job of it!”

“I have two PhD’s. I think I can handle it. Hand me those scissors. By the way, speaking of history; John and Teresa have invited you to visit the Museum of Natural History with them, tomorrow after school. They have tickets to a behind-the-scenes tour where you can see the rare folio collection.”

“Woah,” Peter breathed, his eyes widening for a moment. But a second later, his face fell immediately. “I have to go with _them_ though?”

“They have four tickets, so you can bring Ned. That will be tolerable, right?”

“I guess,” Peter said, scrunching up his nose. “How was dinner? In _Beacon_?”

Tony finished cutting out the dinosaur and slid the picture across the table. “Horrible. They’re vegetarians.”

“I’m a vegetarian!” Peter exclaimed.

“What? I never noticed.”

“Yeah, well, the Avengers serve so much food every evening that I have plenty to choose from.”

“Huh.”

Peter pouted. “Does that mean you like me less, now?”

“Give me a moment to think about that.”

Peter lightly punched him in the shoulder.


	3. Tiramisu and treadmill turtles

They turned a corner, and the museum of Natural History was right down the street. Peter and Ned had agreed to meet Pepper’s parents by the front entrance. Which meant Peter had about two minutes left to think strategy. He still didn’t know whether he was supposed to be nice Peter or nasty Peter.

He didn’t _want_ to be nice to John and Theresa. He couldn’t even really explain why, but it was out of some strange sense of loyalty to Tony, who was obviously struggling with the situation.

But he couldn’t exactly be unpleasant, either, because he didn’t want to make Ned feel awkward. He wondered now if Theresa and John had foreseen that, and arranged it this way on purpose.

The elderly couple were waiting right next to the revolving doors. They were both wearing backpacks and sturdy hiking shoes. John was holding two bananas and a water bottle, and Theresa had a large camera around her neck. They looked like tourists preparing for a safari, and Peter already felt the second-hand embarrassment creeping in.

“You must be Ned,” John said, shaking Ned’s hand.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mr. and Mrs. Potts,” Ned said, a picture of politeness.

“Yeah, thanks,” Peter echoed belatedly.

“We’re happy for a chance to get to know you,” Theresa said. “Both of you. Shall we?”

-

Well, Theresa and John certainly liked Ned better than they liked Peter. Peter couldn’t exactly blame them. Ned was always friendly, his enthusiasm always infectious, always easy to be around. And Peter was… probably the polar opposite of all that.

“Look, Mrs. Potts!” Ned gasped, pouring over one of the rare books on display. “Look at all the drawings in the margins. Isn’t that awesome?”

Peter turned away from them, staring at another book without really seeing it. He shouldn’t have said yes to any of this. He’d gotten roped into it by the allure of such a rare opportunity to see this part of the collection, but what was the point? He had missed everything the tour guide had told them because he had been too busy obsessing over how to act. He still hadn’t figured it out. He should have talked to Tony before coming here, to get a sense of what he was supposed to do. He should have asked more about their dinner last night, like if they had talked things out and if, maybe, Tony sort of liked them now. Then Peter could like them, too.

“Let’s grab some food before we head out,” John suggested, and Peter felt his stomach sink further. He had hoped that they would just do the tour and he’d be free to go. But Ned was already nodding happily. “I could eat a horse right about now!”

“Me too. Let’s find the restaurant, then,” John said. “I think I spotted a nice covered terrace.” He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, but Peter shrugged it off, annoyance flaring up inside him once again.

John didn’t comment on it, though Peter thought he heard him huff a little.

Peter followed the three of them to the restaurant terrace with led in his shoes, though he tried his best to keep his expression carefully neutral.

And when Ned threw a bit of a concerned look his way as they sat down at a table, he forced himself to smile reassuringly.

Peter made it through dinner, mostly by keeping his head down and pretending to be too busy eating to really contribute to the conversation. Which wasn’t much of a problem, because Ned could talk plenty for the both of them.

Until Ned announced: “Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom.”

Theresa watched him leave with a smile on her face. “You have a very good friend,” she said, turning back to Peter.

“Yeah? Disappointed it wasn’t _him_ that got adopted?”

Her smile fell immediately.

“Well, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little more polite, like him,” John grunted. “Theresa was just being nice.”

Inexplicably, Peter suddenly felt tears burning behind his eyes. He wanted to go _home_. He just wanted to be with Pepper and Tony: go to the lake house, eat pistachio ice cream together on the porch swing. He hadn’t signed up for all this additional family getting thrown into the mix.

“I have to go to the bathroom, too,” he said, not entirely able to keep his voice from trembling. He threw his fork down and all but fled the scene.

He made his way into the restaurant, to the bathrooms in the far back. The last stall was empty, so Peter slipped inside and locked the door. He lowered the lid of the toilet to sink down on top of it, dropping his head into his hands. He felt a familiar sense of failure wash over him, though he didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like the whole thing was _his_ fault, was it? God, he was suddenly exhausted. There was no way he was getting back out there and finishing this museum trip from hell. Just the thought made him feel overwhelmed and slightly queasy. But what about Ned? He was having a nice time – Peter didn’t want to screw that up.

He took out his phone, but didn’t know what to do with it. He couldn’t call Tony, because he’d probably get mad at Theresa and John. He couldn’t call Pepper because she’d probably get mad at _him_. So he dialed a different number.

“Hey, kid,” Rhodey said. “Thought you were at the museum.”

“I’m hiding in the bathroom.”

“Oh, dear,” Rhodey said, sounding amused. “Is the exhibition _that_ terrible?”

“No, but Pepper’s parents are.”

A sigh on the other end. “Peter, did you really give them a fair shot?”

“No, probably not,” Peter admitted, tugging at a strand of his hair. “But I’m too tired to give them a fair shot. Can you please come up with a fake emergency and come pick me up? _Please_? I want to come home.”

“Peter…” Rhodey voice was understanding, and maybe a tiny bit sad. “I think you’re just overthinking it.”

How was Peter supposed to _not_ overthink this? “Why do I have to fix everything?”

“Fix everything? Who said anything about fixing anything? Your only job is to enjoy a day at the museum.”

Peter turned to the side so he could lean his forehead against the cold tiles. “But if I end up having a good time, Tony will be sad.”

“How do you figure that?”

Peter didn’t really know how to explain it. It made perfect sense in his head, but he couldn’t say it out loud without it sounding incredibly stupid.

Rhodey seemed to understand the problem without any explanation, though. “Peter – how do you think Theresa and John managed to get four tickets to an exclusive exhibition, coincidentally at your favorite museum, when it’s probably been sold out for months?”

Peter frowned. “How does that matter?”

“Because obviously, Tony arranged those tickets for them. Because whatever his own difference with them are, he knows he has to put them aside, and just focus on you getting to know your new family. In a fun way, with no pressure. Because he wants you to make up your own mind, not worry about what _he_ thinks. Do you understand me?”

It felt like something heavy broke off in Peter’s chest and slowly floated away. “I think so.”

“All right, kid. Then take a breath.”

Peter drew in a deep breath, filling his constricted lungs with air until his chest stopped aching, then released it.

“Good. Ready to get back out there?”

“Thank you, Rhodey.”

“Welcome, Pete. Just have some fun. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The phone call hadn’t fixed everything, but it had given him enough courage to leave the toilet and finish what he had started. He stopped by the sinks to splash some water into his face, drying it off with a paper towel. He stepped out of the bathroom to find John waiting right next to the door.

“Hey kid,” he said, frowning as he looked Peter up and down. “Look – I didn’t mean we didn’t _want_ you as… I just meant… Oh, hell, I don’t know.”

“It’s fine,” Peter murmured, even managing a smile. “Let’s get dessert.”

He followed John outside to the terrace. Ned appeared to be blissfully unaware of what had transpired, greeting Peter with a wide smile. “Mrs. Potts and I want tiramisu. Have you ever had tiramisu?”

Peter slumped down in the seat. “I tried making it once, for dinner, on my last birthday. But then Kathy called and said she was staying somewhere else, and I didn’t want to eat it alone, so I threw it all out.”

“Dude,” Ned said, his eyes widening.

“Oh no, it was fine!” Peter hastened to add. “It was actually pretty nice. Had the house to myself and all. Watched a lot of terrible movies.”

Ned didn’t look at all convinced.

Theresa cleared her throat. “So, tiramisu all around, then? I’ll go order.” She squeezed Peter’s hand before leaving the table.

Just like Pepper always did.

And suddenly, Peter didn’t want to leave yet. “Maybe we can stop by the giftshop, later?” He suggested.

“Oh, yessss!” Ned said. “I want to see if they have any cool LEGO sets.”

-

The gift shop was huge, and the little child in Peter wanted to take everything home with him. So did Ned, judging by how he bounced around the store while animatedly explaining to Theresa why every single item he picked up was the most amazing thing on the face of this earth.

Peter aimlessly wandered around a little until one item in particular caught his eye: It was a book on urban wildlife photography. The cover showed a picture of a fox in the yellow glow of a street light. It would be right up Pepper’s alley. Maybe as an extra birthday present.

Peter dug into his pocket and took out his wallet. Inside sat his brand new, unused credit card. He took it out and turned the piece of plastic over in his hands. Pepper and Tony had opened a bank account for him, and they had promised to deposit his allowance. Peter never actually checked his balance, and he hadn’t bought anything yet. But he assumed that he could get the book and use his card and everything would work the way it was supposed to.

He didn’t know why he felt nervous about it.

“Having second thoughts?” John had appeared next to him, peeking over his shoulder.

“No,” Peter mumbled. “Just… never used a credit card. Do I give it to the cashier, or swipe it myself, or…?”

“Either is fine.”

“And if there’s no money on my account, there won’t be like alarm bells going of everywhere, right? I mean, there _should_ be money on it, but I don’t…”

“If it gets declined, I’ll spot you.”

Peter nodded, hugging the book to his chest. “Thank you. I’ll go buy it, then.”

He took the book to the cashier. She scanned it. He swiped the card. No alarms went off. The cashier smiled and wished him a nice day. Feeling a mixture of embarrassed and relieved, Peter shuffled back to where John was waiting for him.

“Tony didn’t tell us you liked photography.”

“Uhm, no. I got it for Pepper.”

John smiled.

-

Tony’s days without Pepper were slowly creeping by, and no major parenting crisis had presented itself yet. As the week progressed, he became more and more convinced that he _totally_ could pull of a _Finding Nemo_ if he needed to.

He monitored Peter’s patrols, made him eat lots of fruit every evening, and fed his turtles when the kid was at school. He had even sent Peter on a museum-tour with Theresa and John yesterday that the kid, in his own words, ‘didn’t entirely hate’, even though the kid had been absolutely exhausted when he came home; as if John and Theresa had made him run a marathon.

Still, he kept having this nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important.

“Stark,” a voice grunted from behind him.

Tony dropped his tools to the workbench and turned to see that Fury had entered his workshop. “What are you doing here on a Sunday?”

“It’s Thursday.”

“Oh. That explains a lot. I was wondering where Peter had been all day.”

“Speaking of,” Fury said. “Can you tell him to stop giving out stories to the New York Examiner?”

“That’s funny. You were totally okay with it when the stories were about my obsession with bunnies or Steve’s candy crush addiction.”

“I’m aware of the hypocrisy. But the question stands. He’s starting to make us look like fools.”

Tony shrugged. “Talk to him about it.”

“I already tried. _You_ talk to him. You’re supposed to be his parent. I don’t want to have to deal with his insolent behavior all the time.”

Tony frowned at him. “You know very well he has changed, don’t hold his past behavior against him.”

“Changed? How do you figure that?”

Something in Fury’s tone made Tony look up. He cocked his head when he saw the grim expression on Fury’s face. “What - he’s being rude again?”

Fury crossed his arms. “What made you think he ever stopped?”

“Well… he stopped being rude to _me_.” Tony grinned. “I guess I know how to deal with him.”

“Sure,” Fury drawled. “Or maybe he’s just civil to you because he doesn’t want to make any waves in his brand new little family; afraid that it’ll all go away if he rocks the boat too much.”

“Can you just give me this proud parenting moment? I’ll talk to him, all right?”

“All I’m asking.”

Tony knew from experience how unpleasant Peter could be when he was at his rudest. He sort of thought they had moved past that, now. But first Pepper’s parents, and now Fury… apparently not.

When Tony was younger, he regularly mouthed off to his poor, long-suffering teachers. Usually, they wrote angry notes that were only read by Tony’s nanny’s and then promptly discarded, because none of them wanted to actually get of their lazy asses and do something about it.

But one time, one of the teachers apparently managed to badger enough people at Stark Industries to finally get to talk to Howard himself. And Howard had marched straight into the school, finding Tony in one of the hallways and yelling at him for a solid ten minutes, with a crowd of onlookers growing larger by the second, about how he didn’t want to interrupt his important work to deal with his unimportant family.

In a deliberate act of defiance, Tony became twice as rude after that incident. But none of his teachers ever attempted to contact Howard again.

Yeah. Tony was _definitely_ going to deal with this better.

-

He had to wait until nine o’clock that evening to ‘deal with it’, though. That’s when Peter finally made an appearance in the living room, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He wasn’t usually home this late on a school day.

“Hey kid, there you are.”

“Hey,” Peter said, also giving a little wave at Wanda, who was lounging on the couch with a cup of tea.

“Have you had dinner? You’re home late today.”

Peter looked like he was going through some kind of internal struggle, deciding on how to answer. But finally he just settled on: “Yeah.”

Okay, then. Far be it from Tony to be the snooping, controlling parent. He had more important things to discuss. “Did you talk to Fury this week?”

“Yeah,” Peter said again, his voice now a shade defiant.

“Did you call him an asshole?”

“Might have done,” Peter said, lowering his backpack to the floor. “Two or three times.”

“You gotta be civil with him.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I’m busting my ass trying to convince everyone that you are mature enough to go Spider-Manning all on your own. And if you’re going around acting like a hormonal teen, that’s undermining the message a little.”

“You don’t need to convince anyone,” Peter calmly said, “since it’s not really anyone’s business what I do when I’m Spider-Man, including Fury. I already made that clear to him. If he gets upset about it; tough.”

“Unfortunately for you, that’s not entirely how it works. Because you live under my roof and Fury is an esteemed colleague. You’re free to hold your own opinions, but you’re old and wise enough to express them without being rude.”

Peter looked annoyed, but didn’t say anything. He just pulled his sweater a little tighter around himself and looked away from Tony, towards the window.

“Cat’s got your tongue, now? That’s never been a problem for you before.” As soon as he said it, Tony realized it wasn’t the best tack to take. He already steeled himself for an angry comeback. But Peter didn’t get angry. He still didn’t say anything. He just slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the room without another word.

Well, Tony didn’t handle that as gracefully as he had hoped.

Wanda was still softly blowing on her tea, but she stopped for a moment to inform Tony: “He was upset.”

“Well, he needed to hear it,” Tony grumbled.

“No, he was already upset when he came in.”

Tony frowned, now. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t read minds.”

“You are mildly infuriating, you know that?”

She smiled. “I do.”

Tony dug out his phone. “I’ll just send him a turtle-video, to make sure we’re okay.”

He found one of a turtle on a treadmill and sent it on to Peter. A few seconds later, his phone buzzed. “There. He’s fine. He sent me a smiley face back. It’s not like a colon-capital-D smiley, it’s a colon-right-parenthesis smiley. But I’ll take it.”

Wanda slurped her tea.


	4. An apology

Oh god.

Oh god oh god _oh god_ , what was he doing here?

Peter had never been this nervous in his life. Not when he’d had guns pointed in his face or even when he had to attend one of those stupid charity events he hated.

He had taken three buses that had horrible connections to get here on his free Saturday, and he wasn’t even sure if he actually wanted to be here.

The large hall was filled with tables in neat rows, and hard plastic chairs connected at the base. At each table sat a few people. Two, three, sometimes four. Guards were patrolling, not paying attention to any of the conversations in particular.

The door opened again and a guard led Kathy inside. Peter felt his heart skip a beat and he lowered his head, staring down at the tabletop.

She was wearing the orange tracksuit, though thankfully, she wasn’t handcuffed. Peter wasn’t sure if he could bear to see her like that. Kathy sat down at the other side of the table and the guard moved away. Peter wasn’t sure if he was happy about that, or if he had secretly hoped that the guard would stick around just in case Kathy would be getting violent.

Kathy didn’t lunge over the table yet, though. “Well, hello honey,” she said with a smile. “So happy you finally came to visit.”

“Yeah,” Peter murmured, feeling nervous in spite of her apparent calm. He had hoped, of course, that she wouldn’t start screaming her head off at him. But he _had_ expected her to be angry or at least suspicious. He didn’t know exactly how much she had been told about his involvement in the whole case.

“I’ve missed you,” she said. “How have you been?”

“All right,” Peter replied. “Living with a new foster family. Trying to – ah – get used to the whole situation.”

“Must be difficult,” she said. “Is it?”

“Sometimes,” Peter admitted. “Sometimes I don’t really know how to act. Never had that problem when I lived with you.” He gave a faint smile.

“Let me know if you ever need someone to talk to. I still have people on the outside who are always happy to help out.”

Peter frowned down at his hands. He should be relieved that Kathy was acting so nice, but he couldn’t. Something was off about the whole situation. Maybe it was just that he looked at her differently, now that he knew her for who she really was. “I’ll be fine.”

“They have enough money? So they can take proper care of you?”

 _Dangerous territory_. “Yeah,” Peter said, curtly. “Yeah, that’s all fine.”

She hummed, folding her hands together and leaning forward a little. “Did you get my boys sent to jail, Peter?”

“I… no,” Peter croaked, his throat closing up at the sudden turn in the conversation.

“I thought you wouldn’t. Janos suspected you did, but I told him you wouldn’t do that to me. Not after everything I’ve done for you, hm? You know – I’m not even allowed to call them. I get one phone call a week, but I have no one to call. I really miss them.”

“That sucks,” Peter murmured.

“Yes. If I give you a note, will you hide it in your shoe? You can take it to him. His prison has visitation hours tomorrow, in fact. It would make me very happy to hear from him. You’ll help me, won’t you, dear?”

“Ummm….”

“And maybe you could give me _your_ new number so I can call you on the phone? Wouldn’t it be nice to talk to each other more often?”

Peter suddenly got a horrific sense of déjà vu. It was all the same. Kathy was trying to pull the exact same thing she _always_ tried to pull. He always had been blind to it, and now he was damn near falling for it again.

But this time would be different. Because this time, he knew exactly what she was doing. He drew a slow controlled breath and looked her straight in the eye. “I’m not here to be your little errand boy again.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, tutting. “Then why _are_ you here?”

“I’m here to… I’m here because…” Peter tried to grasp for an explanation, but none came. And then reality hit him, settling into every bone in his body. Why _was_ he here? What the hell was he doing?

Kathy was studying him, her head cocked. She always made him feel like she could see right through him. “I took care of you for three years-“

“You,” Peter said, his blood suddenly boiling, “did _not_ take care of me. I took care of _you_. I worked my ass off around the house and in your stupid drug ring, and you didn’t ever buy me new shoes or read my report cards or make me soup when I was sick.”

“Honey, I did the best I could. I tried to do the right thing.”

“Then why did you never tell me _you_ were in charge of the whole drug ring?”

Kathy sighed, a sad look on her face. “I didn’t want you to think badly of me. You were always such a sweet kid.”

Oh, she was good at this. Peter felt like he was losing a battle somehow, even if _she_ was the one in metaphorical handcuffs. _Come on, Parker. What do you do when you want to wind people up? Dial the rudeness to eleven._ Peter leaned back in his seat, letting anger bubble up in his chest; letting it push away all his other feelings of fear and insecurity. “Well that’s cute and all,” he drawled. “But I don’t buy it. You’re a pretty shitty liar.”

She looked a little thrown, finally. Peter had never _ever_ been rude to her. Even whenever she’d throw stuff at his head, he’d always just clean it up and then give her some space. Part of him had probably been scared that if he’d yell at her, she might not want him around anymore.

He didn’t have to be scared of that anymore. “Oh, and by the way, I _did_ get your boys sent to jail. Well, Milan wasn’t entirely my fault, but I did lead the police straight to Janos. In fact, I’m pretty much the one who got _you_ sent to jail. How’s the food in here?”

Kathy appeared to be at a loss for words for a moment. And _then_ the mask came down right in front of his eyes, as she set her jaw and dug her nails into the wooden tabletop. She suddenly looked at him the way she always looked at Milan when he came to visit. “You think you can make a fool out of an old lady?” She hissed. “You think you know me after three years, but you have no idea what I’m really capable of. I still have contacts on the outside. I can get them to give you a little visit.”

“Oh, please do,” Peter said lightly. “I’ll get them thrown in jail, too. Because you have no idea what _I’m_ capable of, either.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m glad I came to see you. The last time we spoke, everything was still sort of normal. And then so much stuff happened and I… I just needed to see you like this. The way you really are. Stripped down to the core.” He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll be going, now.”

And he left. Past the rows of tables, down the long hallway with the tiny windows, through the alarmed-sealed doors, past reception with the metal detectors, down the gravel pathway that lead to the metal gate. Never looking back or slowing his pace.

But once he stepped out the front gate, leaving the barbed wire behind him, all of the strength he had mustered to make it to this point melted away like snow under the sun and he was left with nothing but an empty feeling, suddenly not just feeling tired but exhausted; scrubbed raw inside. He wanted to sleep for about a year.

Just the idea of having to take three different buses to make his way back home, made him want to curl up and cry.

Maybe there was somewhere else he could go, instead.

-

Peter hadn’t responded to Tony’s last three texts. Not even to the final one, which included a gif of a cute baby turtle chomping on a piece of lettuce. A quick GPS check revealed that his phone was turned off. Tony wasn’t pleased: Peter knew very well he needed to keep his phone on him at all times when he was patrolling. “FRIDAY, connect to Karen for me.”

Karen’s software popped open on one of his screens, and a cheerful voice sounded: “Good morning.”

“Karen. Give me access to your location.”

“Oh. It’s you,” Karen said, sounding disappointed.

“Are you with Peter right now?” Tony asked impatiently.

“He’s not in his suit. But I’m with him, yes.”

“He’s not in his suit? He said he was going Spider-Manning. Where is he?”

“Peter doesn’t want you to know. And I ain’t snitching!”

“I’m pretty sure I programmed you to follow my orders,” Tony said slowly.

“Well guess what, Peter reprogrammed me eleven times since then,” Karen informed him. “And overruling _that_ particular command was the first thing he did.”

Tony pressed his lips together. It wasn’t entirely out of character for Peter to sneak around. It didn’t necessarily mean that something terrible was happening. Peter might be doing something completely innocent, like secretly meeting up with his crush or practicing his backflips away from prying eyes. But still… What if he was doing something stupid? Or, God forbid, what if _Tony_ did something stupid, and now Peter was running away from home like all the parenting books warned Tony he might. “Why doesn’t he want me to know where he is?”

“No comment.”

Tony sighed. “Why do you hate me, Karen?”

“I’m just looking out for Peter.”

“So am I. He’s my kid.”

“I don’t hate you, Tony,” Karen said, sounding strangely like Pepper did whenever Tony said something stupid. “How could I? Peter adores you. But I won’t break my protocol. So I can’t tell you where he is. Just trust me; you don’t have to worry. He’s not in trouble.”

That barely put a dent in Tony’s worries. “Can you give him a message from me?”

It stayed quiet for a moment. “Well, I’d have to wait for him to put his mask on until I can give it to him. But I guess I can do that,” Karen finally said.

-

On to plan B. If Karen wasn’t going to help him find Peter, Tony was just going to drive to every place he could think of until he found the kid.

Main problem there: he couldn’t think of a lot of places. He really only had _one_ option that seemed like a safe bet. Ned Leeds' house.

Ned’s mother Sonya opened the door, wearing an apron and a hairnet, a bit of chocolate smeared on one of her cheeks and a wooden spoon in one hand. “Hiya?”

“Hi. I’m Tony, Peter’s – um – parent? We met one time.”

“Ah yes, of course. Want to come in, or whatcha here for?”

“Is Peter here?”

“Nah. Lost your flock, huh?”

The little bubble of hope that had formed in Tony’s chest during his ride here, abruptly popped. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It seems that way. Can I talk to Ned?”

“Come on in.” She turned, disappearing back inside. Tony stepped into a dark, narrow hallway and carefully shut the door behind him. When he entered the living room, Sonya pointed at the couch, before turning towards the stairs and hollering: “Ned, c’mon down! You have a visitor!”

Footsteps thundered on the stairs. “Who is it? Who is it? Who is it?” The door opened and Ned stumbled inside, his face immediately falling when he spotted Tony sitting on the couch. “Oh. It’s you.” He sounded even more annoyed than Karen. “What?”

Sonya frowned, waving the wooden spoon at him. “That’s not how we greet guests, Ned.”

Ned huffed. “What’s up, _sir_?”

“Um,” Tony said, a little thrown by the boy’s animosity. “Have you seen Peter?”

Ned frowned, crossing his arms. “Not today. Why?”

“I can’t seem to find him.”

“Huh. What did you do this time?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you forgot to come to the parent-teacher conference last Thursday, for one thing.”

Tony felt all the blood drain from his face as his heart plummeted all the way to the earth’s core. “The… the…”

“And Peter wasn’t even _that_ upset about it, so I’m just wondering what you did to make him up and leave, now.”

Tony pressed his hands against his eyes, letting out a long groan. Shit, shit, shit. The parents’ evening. How could he have forgotten? He felt a wave of panic overtake him; a panic like he hadn’t felt in a long time. Because he knew in that instant that he had royally, utterly messed this one up.

He could feel Sonya’s hands squeezing both his shoulders. “Tony?”

“On Thursday, with Mr. Harisson – I had the piece of paper but I just… Shit, I screwed it up.”

“Nothing’s screwed up, Tony. Shit happens. Take a breath.”

Tony did, with effort, and swallowed down his panic. “God – would he…? But he wouldn’t run away because of _that_ , that parents’ meeting was two days ago.”

Sonya frowned. “Are you sure he ran away?”

“Not really. Just that he lied about where he was going and turned off his phone.”

Sonya turned back to Ned. “Peter hasn’t send you any messages today?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Ned said. He still had his arms tightly crossed, though he seemed a little mollified by how upset Tony was.

Sonya sighed, squeezing Tony’s shoulder again. “Tony, don’t worry about it. You’re a good guy, okay? Got your heart in the right place. Blessed with some brains, too, unlike some of us. All parents screw up sometimes. Once when Ned was little, I accidentally took the wrong kid home from nursery school!”

“What?” Ned squeaked.

“Oh, relax, you’re fine,” she told him with a wave of her hand. She turned back to Tony. “It’s parenting. You talk it out, you hug it out.”

“But I don’t know where he is. I still don’t even know what went wrong today.”

“Ned, you try calling him, see if he answers,” she promptly ordered.

But in that moment, Tony’s own phone buzzed. Tony glanced down at it and the knot in his stomach tightened yet further. “God, it’s my mother in law. I don’t have the energy for this right now….”

But he knew Theresa wouldn’t ever call him unless it was an emergency, so he answered anyway. “Tony here. …. Oh, thank god.”

-

The drive to Beacon wasn’t pleasant. Tony’s brain decided to conjure up an incessant stream of mental images of Peter sitting alone outside Mr. Harrison’s classroom, waiting, while each passing minute made it more and more clear that Tony wasn’t going to show.

“Screw up parent,” a little voice in the back of his head kept repeating. “Deadbeat dad. Howard Stark’s son, through and through.”

He wasn’t even sure which was worse: the fact that he’d forgotten the whole parents’ evening, or the fact that Peter hadn’t even brought it up when he came home that evening. The first one showed that he was a stupid no-show who had his priorities all screwed up. The second one showed… Tony wasn’t sure what it showed, but it wasn’t anything pretty.

He didn’t need to ring the doorbell when he arrived. John already opened the door when he was halfway across the front lawn, clearly having been on the lookout.

Theresa was slowly pacing around the living room, looking apprehensive. “He’s outside,” she said as soon as she laid eyes on Tony, and pointed to the terrace doors.

Tony glanced through the glass panes. Peter was sitting under the tree, his back turned to them, anxiously pulling the grass out of the soil. Well, at least he wasn’t pulling his own hair out like he sometimes did when he was upset.

“He wouldn’t tell us anything,” she continued quietly. “He just turned up, looking like a kicked puppy. He does know I called you - he seemed okay with that. Do you know what happened?”

Tony didn’t want to admit to his failures just yet; not when he had been trying so hard to get these two to respect him a little more. “Let me go talk to him.”

He slid the terrace door open and stepped outside. He could see Peter’s shoulders stiffen; his fingers releasing the clumps of grass. “Hey,” the boy murmured once Tony was standing right next to him.

Tony sat down. “Hey, kid. You’re a long way away from home.”

“I was just… upset.”

“And you didn’t want to come home and talk about it?”

“Pepper’s parents were closer by,” Peter said. His tone was airy, but Tony didn’t buy it.

“Closer by…?”

“Beacon prison,” Peter murmured, ducking his head.

Tony really should have seen that answer coming. But he didn’t; not even a little bit. And for a few seconds, all he could do was gape at Peter. A few seconds during which Peter seemed to shrink under his gaze. Tony swallowed. “You… you talked to her?”

Peter wordlessly nodded.

“What about?” Tony asked, an uneasy feeling spreading through his chest. He never met Kathy, but heard enough stories about her to know she was manipulative, shrewd and selfish, and would use any opportunity she could get to use Peter as a pawn in her chess games.

“Just random stuff at first. How I was doing, how she was doing. Then she asked me to smuggle out some notes she wrote to her son. And she wanted my phone number so she could call me.”

“Did you take the notes?”

Peter shook his head.

“Did you give her your phone number?”

Peter shook his head again and Tony breathed out. “Good job, kid.”

Peter buried his face in his knees, clearly feeling miserable, and Tony’s feelings of relief ebbed away. It was one thing that Peter hadn’t fallen for Kathy’s games again, but that didn’t mean that the experience had been pleasant for him.

“I thought she might be happy to see me,” Peter said, his voice muffled. “ _Stupid_.”

Tony scooted closer to him until his knees were touching Peter’s legs, and laid one hand on Peter’s back, trying to force some of the tension out of the boy’s shoulders.

Peter lifted his head again, turning a little so he could curl up against Tony’s chest. Relieved that he was able to hold his kid in his arms, Tony might have squeezed a little too tight. But Peter didn’t complain; not even a little bit. He melted into the embrace as if his bones had been turned to Jell-O.

The silence stretched for a while, until Peter whispered: “I don’t ever want to see her again.”

Tony could only feel relieved about that. At the same time, he was very aware of how complex Peter’s relationship with this woman had to be. Peter had lived with her for almost three years. When Tony imagined those three years, he usually envisioned Kathy acting like a selfish asshole and Peter being thoroughly unhappy. But that couldn’t be the whole truth, of course. You can’t spend three years together and experience only unhappiness. There would have been moments of laughter, caring, maybe genuine hugs.

It was a bit like those rare times when a fond memory of Howard Stark flitted through his mind, like that one Christmas when his mother was sick and they prepared dinner-in-bed for her together. Tony never knew how to deal with such memories. He wasn’t even sure if they made him feel better or only worse. They were confusing.

That was probably pretty much how Peter felt. “Why didn’t you tell me all this was going on?”

“I don’t want to bother you with my issues all the time.”

Tony turned his head so he could lean his cheek down on top of Peter’s brown locks. “Peter, why would I have wanted to become your guardian, if I wasn’t going to be there for you when you actually _need_ me?”

“I don’t even know why I went there. It was really stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid. I understand that you may have felt the need to see her. I’m just concerned that you didn’t tell me about it in advance.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology. I’m not mad, kid.”

“You’re just disappointed?” Peter guessed, squirming a little in Tony’s arms.

Tony smiled for a moment. “No. Because it’s not really your fault. But whoever taught you that you have to fix everything by yourself, was wrong.”

Peter disentangled himself from the embrace, leaning back against the tree. “It’s not like I kept it a secret on purpose. It just didn’t even occur to me to talk to you about it.” He started pulling at a strand of his own hair now, like he always did when he was feeling anxious, so Tony reached out and placed a hand over his, guiding it back down to his lap and holding it there.

“I suppose,” he said, “it will just take a little time for you to _really_ know that you can trust me with this kind of stuff.”

“I trust you,” Peter said, squeezing Tony’s hand. “I always did, didn’t I? With… all the other things.”

“Yes, you did,” Tony conceded, because Peter _had_ always trusted Tony with issues far bigger than this. “You turned off your phone, though,” he pointed out.

“That was just prison policy,” Peter murmured. “Turn off all electronics.”

Oh. That made sense. “So then maybe it’s just a matter of building in some new habits. Getting used to the fact that we’re here for you now, and you can _always_ talk to us.”

Peter gave a nod.

“Now – on to the next item on today’s agenda,” Tony murmured, bracing himself. “I… I missed the parents’ evening last Thursday.”

Peter looked surprised for a moment, then smiled weakly. “What, just remembered it today?”

“Your friend Ned gave me a stern talking to,” Tony admitted.

Peter exhaled in a sharp laugh. “Wish I’d seen that.” He squeezed Tony’s hands again. “It’s okay. You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

“It’s not okay. You come first, no matter what. There’s no excuse.”

“Maybe not,” Peter agreed. “But I… I don’t know. Abe said he put a note in giant letters up on the fridge because he knows his mom would forget otherwise. And we’re only just getting used to each other; I’m getting used to how you’re wired. You’re a bit of a scatterbrain, so I need to remind you. Or have Pepper remind you, I don’t know. That doesn’t make you a bad parent. You know, Kathy _never_ agreed to go to parents’ evenings or anything like that. She said I should just drop out and start working, like she did when she was young.”

“Just because I’m not as bad as that _rhymes-with-witch_ , doesn’t mean I’m off the hook,” Tony said, frustrated. “And I know you’re not as okay with this as you pretend to be, or you would have brought this up before. Why didn’t you chew me out right after? Why didn’t you call me _as_ you were waiting at the school?”

Peter shrugged. “Because I knew you’d feel bad.”

“I would have. But no worse than I’m feeling right now, finding out about it two days later! I need to know that you’re comfortable with yelling at me if I ever mess up. Don’t hide it to protect my feelings.”

Peter leaned back now, against the tree, and crossed his arms. “How have I ever given you the impression that I _wasn’t_ comfortable with that? I yell at people all the time, Tony.”

“But you never yell at _me_ anymore.”

“I wasn’t aware that you missed it so much,” Peter drawled.

“I’m just afraid that you’re cutting me too much slack because… I don’t know… because you don’t want to make any waves, because you’re afraid to rock the boat too much. You can be angry at me, even yell at me. And sometimes I’ll yell back. But it’ll never change the fact that we’re a family. I need to know that you know that.”

Peter’s brow furrowed a little, and he held eye contact with Tony for a while as if trying to find some secret message in his eyes. “I know that,” he finally said.

Tony gave a nod. Peter probably didn’t _really_ know it. But they had discussed it now, and that was a pretty good first step. “You know, my father _never_ bothered to come to school stuff, either,” he murmured. “Or college stuff. Or any stuff, really. And you already know I don’t want to end up like him.”

Peter hummed. “Did he ever apologize for it?”

Tony huffed. “No, of course not.”

“Well, there you go. You are not your father.”

Could it be that simple? Howard had had his flaws. Tony had them, too. And sure, everyone had them; the rational part of him knew that. It still felt like everyone else on the face of the planet had their shit together much more than he did, though. But his father… imagine if he had apologized for something. For mocking or belittling him, for hiring nasty and borderline abusive private teachers to tutor him, or for only ever hugging Tony when there was a journalist nearby who wanted to snap a picture. Even one apology. Would if have made a difference?

He looked back at Peter to find the kid staring back at him with eyes full of compassion; an expression that made him seem far older than a mere fifteen. “Is this your way of getting me to apologize more often?” he asked, feeling his usual humor-defense mechanism kick in.

“I wish I could have met your father,” Peter said, a mischievous look now creeping into his eyes. “I bet we would have gotten along _great_ and then maybe you could have made your peace with him. That would have been nice, right?”

“Whether it would or wouldn’t, it’s too late for it now.”

“Too late to get to know him,” Peter agreed. “But not too late to make your peace with him. Then maybe you won’t have to be so worried about being like him all the time. Because I don’t really care whether you are. We’ve already established that I trust you. You have a very trustable face, you know.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow “It’s the goatee, isn’t it?”

Peter chuckled. “No. It’s the eyes, I think. Sometimes I say something stupid, and your eyes get that twinkle and I know you’re trying not to laugh.”

Howard’s eyes used to twinkle like that, Tony suddenly remembered. “And you… like that?”

“Yeah. Makes me feel safe, I don’t know why.”

Tony nodded, his throat suddenly a little tight. He swallowed a few times to clear it, then gave Peter a quick pat on the knee. “Shall we go inside?” He suggested

“Yeah,” Peter said, though he looked uncomfortable as he glanced back at the terrace doors.

“Anything else on your mind?”

Peter shrugged, looking away from him. “Nothing you can help with.”

“Sometimes just talking about it helps, though,” Tony suggested.

Peter pulled out a few more blades of grass, twisting them around his fingers. “I was a bit of an ass at John and Theresa during their first visit,” he mumbled.

“Pepper told me.”

That seemed to only make Peter feel worse. He wrapped his arms around his own stomach, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Oh. Well, yeah. She was a little pissed off at me. And then she left for the business trip, so…” he gave a helpless shrug.

Tony understood. “It sucks to be apart while you’re fighting.”

“We weren’t really fighting. She was just disappointed, I think. It didn’t bother me at first. But after I talked to John and Theresa a few more times, I realized they’re pretty nice. And I started to feel bad.”

“It was probably my fault,” Tony admitted. “I put it in your head that they weren’t good people before you even met them. I put some stuff on your shoulders that was really just about my own issues with parental figures. Pepper had some choice words to say about that. Something about bricks with eyebrows.”

“You did put it in my head,” Peter agreed. “But I’m still responsible for my own actions.”

“When Pepper gets back home, we’ll have a big family dinner with all of us. How does that sound?”

Peter smiled at him. “Good.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “Can we go home, now?”

“Absolutely.”

-

Theresa was dawdling near the terrace doors, giving both of them a searching look when they stepped inside. She reached out and squeezed Peter’s hand. “Are you feeling better, honey?”

Peter nodded, still leaning heavily into Tony side and not looking at her. “I’m sorry for turning up on your doorstep like that,” he mumbled.

“That’s perfectly all right, dear. I’m just glad Tony could come over and talk to you. Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you Theresa,” Tony said, rubbing Peter’s shoulder with his thumb. “We’ll just go home. Peter’s pretty tired.”

Theresa nodded and led them to the front door.

Tony hesitated a moment before he stepped outside, and turned back to her. “We’d like to invite you both over for dinner somewhere next week, when Pepper is back in town.”

“I’d like that,” she said, before randomly adding: “You’re a very good dad.” And then she hugged him.

She hugged exactly like Pepper.


	5. Parents' evenings and more parents' evenings

_Knock knock knock._

At least ten pairs of eyes turned towards the window. Several people around the table gasped. One man yelped and toppled out of his seat.

Peter simply waved. “Think you can open a window?” he shouted, pointing to one of the latches.

He had found the New York Examiner’s meeting room on the fifth floor, and was now hanging upside down in front of the large windows, calmly swaying back and forth in the breeze.

Dani was the quickest to recover, rising from her seat to approach the window and push it open.

“Fancy meeting you here!” Peter quipped, steadying himself by putting one hand against the glass.

“Oh, drop it,” she said, awkwardly waving a hand. “I mean – don’t _drop_. Hang tight. But, uhm – you know what I meant.”

“Eloquent as ever.” Peter placed one hand around the window frame and in one quick motion, turned himself upright and to the side so he could lean his weight on the window sill and stick his head inside. “Hey, what’s up, everyone?”

Dani’s colleagues still hadn’t recovered from the shock, though the woman at the head on the table – probably Dani’s boss – made a show of dusting herself off as if opening the window had ruined her suit, before addressing him directly. “Well, this is most uncommon. But I take it you’ve heard about our shift in work duties? Mr. Dallas will be your correspondent from now on,” she nodded her head at a thin, balding man who was clutching a briefcase. “I assure you he is most qualified.”

“Pass,” Peter said. “No offense, dude. I’m sure your writing is great. But I already got a correspondent I’m happy with.”

“Mr. Dallas is our crime correspondent,” the big boss-lady said, her eyes straying towards Dani for a moment. “Miss Anastos is _supposed_ to be writing for economics.”

“You do economics?” Peter asked, turning to Dani. “I didn’t even know that.”

Boss-lady inhaled sharply, looking like she was getting ready for a whole speech. “Mr. Spider-Man-“

“No, you listen to me, lady. I’ve been screwed over enough times in my short life to know I only want to deal with people I trust. Which means _not_ you-” he pointed at Mr. Dallas, then at the reporter sitting next to him, “and not you, and not you, and certainly not _you_ ,” he pointed straight at Dani’s boss. Then at Dani herself. “ _This_ lady I like. So I’ll be sharing my anecdotes with her. Whether you let her write about them in your paper is really no concern of mine.” And then, remembering how nervous Dani had been about the idea of confronting her boss, he dropped his voice to a slightly more polite tone. “Surely you are aware of the importance of _trust_ between a journalist and her source?”

“Very well then,” boss-lady acquiesced in a heavy voice. “I _do_ understand that. I just assumed you’d be more comfortable with… Well, it doesn’t matter. You made your case, there’s not much else I can do.”

“Right-O,” Peter turned to Dani again. “I got some hot anecdote ready to serve up. Wanna find a quiet rooftop and hear about it?”

Dani glanced uncertainly at boss-lady, who gave a stiff nod of permission. “Um – I could meet you by the front door?”

“Or I could swing you up right from here.”

“Out…. out the window?” She stammered.

“I won’t drop you,” Peter said. “It’ll give you something else to tell your readers about.”

“Oh, very well,” she said, gingerly swinging one leg, then the other through the window. Her colleagues just stared, absolutely baffled.

Peter grinned and gave them a little wave, then shot a web straight towards the edge of a lower building nearby and catapulted them forwards.

To Dani’s credit, she didn’t scream. But she was a little unsteady on her legs once they reached the rooftop, and quickly sat down, her legs dangling over the edge. “Ugh. Can’t believe _that’s_ how you get around.”

“Hey, at least it’s original. Most other Avengers just fly. Hardly original.”

She hummed, then dug through her bag and took out a pen. “So what’s your steaming anecdote?”

Peter scratched his head through his mask. “I don’t actually have one. I just figured I should bail you out of the meeting after making things a little awkward in there.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Well, thanks. But I’ll have to face her again eventually. No news, then?”

Peter hesitated for a moment. He realized that, as funny as his latest headlines had been, Tony did have a point when he had told Peter off a few days ago. Maybe he didn’t need to make life difficult for Fury. Tony had once told Peter that he and Fury didn’t always see eye to eye, but that he did trust and respect him. That seemed fair enough. “Not today,” he said. “I’ll find you something soon.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just write about the nauseating experience of swinging from a Spider’s web, a hundred feet above the ground.”

-

After delivering Dani back to her own building, Peter made his way across a few city blocks, jumping from one roof to the other. “Hey, Karen. Any news?”

“No evil assholes detected. Want me to point you to a nearby rooftop where you can chill out?”

“Yes, please.”

Karen led him to the flat rooftop of an apartment building that was bathing in the sun, free from the shade of higher buildings nearby. “Perfect.”

“Now that you’re chilling: Tony recorded a message for you two days ago, when he was looking for you. Did he find you?”

Peter let out a chuckle as he hopped over a low ledge. “Yeah, Karen. He found me. But kudos for bringing it up after I’ve already spent one hour in the suit.”

“Do you still want me to play the message?”

Peter moved to the edge of the apartment building and sat down, letting his legs dangle over the side. “Sure.”

“Playing message.”

Tony’s agitated voice broke through. “Hey, kid. By the time you hear this I may have already tracked you down. I hope I did. But if I didn’t: can you come home? Or call me, at least? Karen won’t tell me where you are. I don’t know what I did this time. If I screwed something up. Maybe I didn’t. What am I saying – I already screwed up lots of times, with Galloway and the in-laws and the...- My point is I’m never going to be anywhere near perfect. But I’m going to be _here_ , Peter. I promise. So I need to know where you are, okay? Please call me.”

The message ended.

“Shall I erase the message?” Karen asked.

“No. Call Tony.”

“You realize he isn’t actually-“

“Call Tony, Karen.”

“Calling.”

Tony picked up after only a few seconds. “What’s up, kid?”

“Tony, I love you. Thank you for everything.”

Tony sucked in a breath. “Shit – kid are you bleeding out somewhere? Karen, update.”

Peter facepalmed. “Tony, I’m fine!”

“Mr. Parker is in top condition,” Karen confirmed. “Although he could use some more vitamin C.”

“Then what was that farewell message straight from ‘famous last words dot com’?”

Peter shrugged, but then realized Tony couldn’t see him. “That was just me. Saying it. Just because.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yessss_.”

“All right,” Tony said, sounding hesitant. “Well, I love you too, kid. Are you far out?”

“I think I’ll just come home now.”

“Okay. We can go pick Pepper up from the airport together. Sound good?”

“Perfect. See you in a bit.”

-

Tony was in front of the compound, waiting next to his car when Peter got home.

Peter pulled off his mask. “You’re way ahead of me. I still have to change.”

“No problem, take your time. The weather is nice enough. And we’re pretty early. How was patrol?”

“Good,” Peter said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he debated whether or not he needed to say anything else to Tony.

Tony, as always, seemed to understand perfectly what he needed. “Want a hug?”

Peter nodded, stepping forward into Tony’s waiting arms.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay, Pete?” Tony asked, his voice laced with concern as he brushed his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Yeah,” Peter said, resting his forehead on Tony’s shoulder. “More than okay.”

Tony seemed to accept that answer and didn’t ask any more questions.

“If we’re so early, can we stop on the way for a milkshake?” Peter suggested. “I’ll pay. My credit card is working.”

Tony leaned back, giving him a bit of a puzzled glance. “Of course it’s working.”

Peter just grinned and shrugged. Tony probably didn’t really understand how weird it was to have money when you’d never had any before. But he didn’t feel like explaining all that, now.

“And I think I can afford to buy my kid a milkshake,” Tony continued, this time with a smile. “Might even throw in some chocolate chip cookies.”

Peter clapped his hands together. Milkshakes, cookies, and Pepper. Perfect. “I’ll get changed.”

-

“Oh my gosh, it’s such a mess in here! What on earth?”

“We had snacks on the way,” Tony explained, quickly wiping two candy bar wrappers and a crushed M&M from the passenger seat so Pepper could sit down.

Pepper turned back to glance at Peter, who had scooted into the backseat and gave her an innocent grin, then turned back to Tony. “How much chocolate did he have?”

Tony started the car. “I’m not sure. I lost count after the M&M’s started flying.”

“I tried to do this trick Ned taught me,” Peter explained.

“It’s almost dinnertime!” Pepper scolded.

“I’ll be hungry again by then,” Peter promised. “But we had to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“You coming home!”

Her face softened. “Ah, I see. And I don’t suppose you left me any chocolate so I could celebrate _coming_ home?”

“Uhm,” Peter said, looking appropriately embarrassed, “I forgot about that part. We can go through the drive-through again and get-“

“No, that’s quite all right,” Pepper immediately said, holding up a hand. “How was your week?”

“Pretty weird,” Peter said, and wasn’t that the truth. “I went to the museum with your parents.”

“Did you really? Which one?”

“Museum of Natural History.”

“That’s so nice!” Pepper said, flashing a wide smile. “And so funny; I don’t think my parents have _ever_ been to a museum.”

Peter leaned forward. “Really? But they totally seem like museum-going types.”

“Na-ah. They like nature. I don’t know – fishing.”

“Huh,” Peter said, sagging back in his seat. It stayed silent for a moment, and when Tony glanced in the rear-view mirror, he saw Peter staring out the car window with a tiny frown, as if he was trying to work something out. For a moment, Tony was worried that Peter was slowly coming to the conclusion that he had _nothing_ in common with Pepper’s parents and shouldn’t ever hang out with them again. But those worries turned out to be completely unfounded when all Peter said was: “I guess they just went because they wanted to spend time with me.”

Pepper smiled again and reached out to squeeze Tony’s arm. Tony wasn’t sure why: nothing Peter told her had indicated that Tony did anything thankworthy. But Pepper must have figured he had had at least _something_ to do with it. “Sounds like you dealt with the jellyfish and seagulls just fine,” she said.

Tony hummed. “Boy, you would’ve been sorry if Peter had _actually_ been kidnapped by scuba-divers.”

“Um,” Peter said, blinking, “Did I miss something?”

Tony chuckled and shook his head. “Anyways, I dealt with it _semi-_ fine. I forgot the parents’ evening.”

“Oh no – Tony!”

“Already rescheduled for tomorrow evening.”

“Well, I suppose that has an upside,” Pepper sighed. “At least that way I’ll be able to attend.”

“Oooh, yes,” Peter agreed. “Please make sure Tony doesn’t embarrass me.”

“I do not _embarrass-_ “

“Done,” Pepper said.

Tony huffed, swerving the car into the fast lane. “The two of you already ganging up on me. _That_ I didn’t miss. So… How was Iceland?”

“I was in _Denmark,_ Tony!”

Peter laughed.

-

“Thank you so much for working us into your schedule. I really apologize for missing the first one.”

“Ah, it happens. There’s a few of ‘em every year,” Mr. Harrison said with a benevolent smile. “I’m very glad that you were able to reschedule. I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you; we have a lot to discuss.”

“Ominous.” Tony commented as all four of them took seat in the chairs around Harrison’s desk.

Harrison waved a hand. “Just because Peter is new at the school. The grades are not an issue. Straight A’s all around. Except for that B+ for his latest history project. They had to deduct some points for the poster because the dinosaur hadn’t been cut out very neatly.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open.

Peter immediately chortled, poking him in the side. “I told him to say that.”

Tony let out a sharp laugh and clutched his chest with one hand. “Oh – you little…” Whatever lingering feelings of guilt had still been weighing on his chest evaporated in little puffs of smoke. “I’m never helping you with your homework again.”

Peter just grinned, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“So now that that’s out of the way,” Mr. Harrison said with a faint grin, “is there anything _you_ three would like to discuss tonight?”

“Just making sure everything is going well, emotionally,” Pepper said, one hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on Peter’s back. “A new family and a new school in such a short timespan; that’s not always easy to deal with.”

Pepper could always get away with saying stuff like that, Tony mused. If he would ask how Peter was doing ‘emotionally’, Peter would certainly blow a raspberry at him or something.

“I believe he is coping admirably well,” Mr. Harrison said. “Wouldn’t you say so, Peter?’

“Oh, yeah,” Peter agreed. “I mean, I don’t get on with _everyone_ , but at least no one here really hates me. And sure, school and home are both new, but they’re both _better_ too, so…” he shrugged. “I know some teachers do find me annoying-“

“Annoying?” Pepper immediately questioned.

“Like when he and his friend Ned try to do trick shots with M&M’s during their history class, I imagine,” Mr. Harrison supplied.

Pepper shot Peter an unimpressed look. “M&M’s again? Do we need to get you some kind of chocolate-rehab program?”

“That history lesson was on feudalism in the Middle Ages!” Peter complained. “ _Feudalism!_ In the _Middle Ages!_ That’s when Tony was still a baby!”

Tony poked him with his foot, sliding his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. “Hey, respect your elderly, kid! You wouldn’t want me to embarrass you in front of your teacher, now, would you?”

Peter crossed his arms, smirking. “Do your worst.”

 _Well, he said it_ , Tony thought, before turning back to Mr. Harrison. “Did you know Peter has an obsession with turtles?”

“Tonyyyy!”

-

“The hyperactive one is Shell,” Peter said, pointing. “And the shy one there by the chunk of wood is Silverstein, but we just call him Stein. When he gets grumpy, he hides in his shell. But he also loves crickets, and sunbathing.”

“He sounds just like me,” John said as he crouched next to the large tank. “Wouldn’t that be nice? To carry a shell around that you can just hide away in, whenever you want?”

“You’d never come out!” Theresa called out from where she was sitting at the table.

“Only for the food,” John said. “And for the sunbathing.”

“I don’t think I’d ever come out, either,” Peter admitted. “So it’s just as well that I don’t have one; I’d miss out on lots of stuff. Because sometimes you feel like you want to hide away, but it’s not really good for you, you know?”

“You should see my cholesterol levels,” John said. “I’m not good at staying away from things that aren’t really good for me.”

“But you’re a vegetarian!”

“Only when she’s looking,” John said, nodding his head towards Theresa.

“Prepare to have those cholesterol levels skyrocket,” Tony announced. “Desert is served!”

Peter and John moved back to the table they had left after the main course. “Did _you_ make that?” Peter asked, staring at the strawberry cheesecake Tony had neatly placed in the center of the table.

“Yup.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cook anything.” Peter turned to the in-laws. “He’s trying to impress you.”

Tony menacingly pointed a cake server at Peter’s face. “You’d better not embarrass me if you want _any_ of this cheesecake, kid.”

“I want cheesecake,” Peter said. “A really big piece. With lost of crust.”

“Anything else His Majesty desires?”

“Pistachio ice cream,” Peter said with a grin. “I know we still have some.”

“Very well. You can have ice cream _after_ you’ve had some fruit. You need your vitamin C,” Tony told him, nodding his head at the fruit bowl in the center of the table.

“I had orange juice this morning!” Peter protested.

“Orange juice is not proper fruit. Here, have a peach with your cheesecake. And _then_ you can have ice cream.”

Peter grumbled as he picked at the fuzzy peach skin. “I’m not a toddler, Tony.”

“Maybe when you’re a parent one day, you’ll understand,” Tony told him. “Back me up, Theresa.”

Theresa held up her hands. “Oh no, I’m not getting involved.”

“You’re getting wise to him, mom,” Pepper complimented. “Tony, honey? Just stop babbling and cut the cake.”

Tony did.

“So, did Pepper like the book?” John asked Peter.

Pepper looked confused and Peter widened his eyes, dropping his fork to his platter. “Oh, I totally forgot! I got you a present. But it’s up in my room, still in the bag. Let me go get it.”

“I never get presents!” Tony complained.

“Oh, shut up, you’re a billionaire,” Peter told him, before swiftly moving to the stairs.

“No respect for his elders,” Tony grumbled as soon as he knew Peter was out of earshot.

John shrugged. “Circle of life, Tony. Better get used to it. Just when you begin to realize that maybe your father was right, you have a son who thinks you’re wrong. You can only hope that he’ll grow up to have kids one day so you can sit back and gloat as he goes through the same thing.”

Peter returned a few minutes later, clutching a simple plastic bag. “Um – it was just something I picked up,” he said. “Didn’t expect there to be a whole audience watching as I gave it to you.”

“Should have given it to her yesterday,” Tony said, “before our _other_ parents’ evening. Then maybe she wouldn’t have gone on and on about those M&M’s – uhm, though I _completely_ agree with her on that point of course,” he added when he caught a withering glare from Pepper’s direction.

Pepper chuckled, a telling expression on her face. She looked happy, though. Happy to be here, with her family. And that was the whole reason why Tony had wanted to do this in the first place.

Well, that _and_ Peter, of course. Accepting a parent was like accepting _being_ a parent.

“Good,” Pepper said. She clapped her hands together. “Now give me my present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ❤️ Have a great day.


End file.
